


The Price of the Pearl

by Ellynne



Series: Belle's Grandmother, Curupira [3]
Category: Beastmaster (TV), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21923218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellynne/pseuds/Ellynne
Summary: Colette has the blood pearl and is on the verge of getting the magic that might save her home and people, but why did Rumplestiltskin really help her find it?
Series: Belle's Grandmother, Curupira [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1381189
Comments: 5
Kudos: 3





	The Price of the Pearl

There was a quality that only pearls and moonlight had, pearls, moonlight and the small jewel lying in the palm of Colette’s hand. Even though it was a deep red, dark as blood, there was no mistaking that soft glow. 

_Is it safe?_ She didn’t ask. Curupira was still seething with fury. They had returned to Madame Curé’s house, and her rage seemed strong enough to burn it down. If Curupira could have killed the Dark One, Colette didn’t doubt she would have. Even now, she was probably a hairsbreadth away from grabbing the gem, throwing it into the deepest corner of the ocean, and carrying Colette away before whatever disaster Rumplestiltskin had foreseen destroyed Avonlea.

According to the stories, the Dark One twisted his words and could make “Yes,” “No” and “No,” “Yes.” But, whatever he said—what he _actually_ said, not what you thought he said—was the truth.

And he had said people would die if she didn’t do this. 

Quickly, before Curupira could have second thoughts (or give into the first thoughts she was already having), she put it in her mouth.

It dissolved as it touched her tongue and it tasted of blood. No, not blood. Darkness, earth, stone. Smells, sounds, _sights_ exploded in her. She saw forests—no, forest was the wrong word, had always been the wrong word. She saw each tree, clearly and distinctly. She could smell them, the green scent of their leaves, the different scents of their flowers, some sweet, some bitter, some (flies gathered round them, gathering pollen) like rotting meat. She could taste the bitter bark of the willow, the sharper tang of pine. 

Grass, vines, flowers, toadstools, flavors, scents, sights poured into her. And she saw the animals. From creeping worms to hulking bears. She saw tigers, sun-yellow and oak-black, stalking their prey. She saw a hare leaping out of the fox’s bite at the last only to run into the maw of its mate. Scene after scene opened up in front of her, overwhelming her. It was too much. It crushed her, drowning her.

X

Curupira almost reached out to stop Colette. She still didn’t like the idea of giving the imp what he wanted. But (she growled, feeling like a captured beast pressing on its chains), they’d come to an agreement.

Besides, though she gave them rules and bounds, Curupira didn’t interfere with the nature of her creatures, which she supposed Colette was. Curupira might love the foolish deer who charged headfirst into danger, but she wouldn’t trap them in cages to keep them safe. And, though she might mourn their deaths, she wouldn’t stop her tigers from slaying the deer they needed to live.

Stopping Colette from saving humans would be like forcing tigers to live on grass or tying down deer. She told herself this, claws digging into her palms, as she watched the girl put the blood-pearl in her mouth. The girl did it quickly, before Curupira broke and stopped her.

The girl didn’t even have a chance to swallow. The gem was a part of Curupira. She felt it as the magic holding it together dissolved, its power breaking free, seeping like a stain into the girl’s blood, her mind, her flesh, tainting them with her power.

The girl went pale. Staring at things only she could see. But, Curupira knew. She felt it. The forest and everything in it touched the girl’s mind. It searched her heart, letting its roots spread inside her, opening buds into her soul.

Colette collapsed.

Curupira caught her before she hit the ground. Colette’s body shuddered in waves, muscles drawing so tight they could almost snap bones. Curupira swore vengeance on the imp if the girl didn’t survive—or if she survived broken, like a wounded beast.

Which might happen. Curupira’s demon senses could see what the pearl was doing to the girl. It was Curupira’s power moving through the child, changing her—the same way it had changed every beastmaster before her. Although, lucky them, they’d all been dead for this part.

Curupira still cursed the imp. He could have told her what would happen. If she found him and shook some answers out of him, he’d probably say she should have known, that it was _obvious_.

And so it was, if you had a twisted, warped, insane, little mind like his. She hadn’t seen it—hadn’t suspected it was possible till it happened. 

To give the girl her gift, the child needed to anchor herself to Curupira, to let her soul pass into hers, and Curupira needed to reshape the girl, blood and bone, almost (but not quite) the same as she’d been before.

Or, the girl could take a bit of Curupira’s soul into hers. She could swallow a kernel of demon power, letting it change whatever it touched. 

Likely, it should have killed her. Human and demon blood couldn’t mix this way.

But, the pearl had formed in the healing waters of the siren’s lake, fed on the passing wisps of mortal lives Iara destroyed there. It was death and healing and humanity all in one, restoring as it burned her from the inside.

Or that was how it seemed to Curupira, seeing it from inside and outside as she held the girl.

It seemed to go on forever, though Curupira knew it was only a few minutes as humans counted time. The girl went limp in Curupira’s arms, the pain ending as quickly as it had come.

A small blackbird landed at the window, drawn by the commotion and the scent of Curupira’s power. It was a normal blackbird, not one of the king’s merle d’or, finally giving up cages and coming to find her.

The bird’s attention was all on Colette, however. It eyed her curiously, tilting its head to look at her with one eye, then the other. It flew off its perch, landing landed on the girl’s motionless finger, and chirped at her.

 _Hello,_ it said. _Are you all right?_

Wearily, Colette opened one eye, too tired to manage both. _Hello_ , she said silently. She struggled through her weariness to add something more. _I’m fine,_ she said before passing out again _._

X

The Northern and the Southern lords were back in Rumplestiltskin’s castle. “The matter has been taken care of,” he told them.

“She’s dead?” Gilles said.

Claudius winced at the crudity and shot Gilles a look. “Naturally, we would be _devastated_ to hear harm had befallen the young lady,” he said, as if Rumplestiltskin were another mortal who couldn’t tattle on him if he didn’t come right out and say he wanted Colette dead. “But, life is full of unfortunate mishaps.”

“Indeed it is,” Rumplestiltskin said. Really, with an opening line like that, it was almost irresistible not to cause a few ‘unfortunate mishaps’ of his own. But, child killers or not, he needed them alive, alas. “That’s why you’ll be glad to hear, the last time I saw her, Lady Colette was in excellent health. And is likely to remain so.”

“What?” Gilles said. “We had a deal—”

“A deal I have kept. To the letter. Lady Colette will not be any threat to your line of succession. You have my word on it.” He gave them a self-satisfied smile. “I’ve already set matters in motion to see her betrothed to a small family of no importance.”

“Her mother was from a small family of no importance,” Gilles grated. “That hasn’t stopped the king’s interest.”

Claudius put a hand on Gilles shoulder, trying to calm him down. Or to remind him he was losing his temper with a wizard who could squash the pair of them like bugs (or _as_ bugs, less entertaining but not nearly as much mess to clean up). “Forgive us, Dark One,” he said. “We only wish for what is best for our kingdoms. There have been cases in the past when kings have been, shall we say, not as particular as one might wish. Marriages have been annulled, and—”

“And widows have been made. Yes, yes, I know all this. So did the girl’s father. He took steps to protect the girl from being a marriage pawn. There is a potion, rare and difficult to procure. Its effects, however, are very easy for one such as myself to recognize. A woman—or girl—who drinks it is rendered barren. You need have no fears of Lady Colette ever having a son.”

“Barren?” Claudius said. “But, how—who. . . ?”

“Her father,” Rumplestiltskin said. “You wouldn’t be the first to believe the world might be, er, safer if his bloodline ended. If he died, leaving her without a protector, the potion would have made her a person of no interest. Or so he hoped.”

“But, why keep it secret?” Claudius asked suspiciously. “It didn’t protect the girl if no one knew.”

“As it happens, he sent a message to the king.” Rumplestiltskin pulled the letter out of the air and handed it to them. The seals on it were broken but still perfectly recognizable. “It was on the eve of his last battle. The messenger, alas, never arrived. The man killed his attackers but not before taking a mortal wound of his own. The letters remained lost until I took an interest in matters.”

“Letters?” Gilles asked.

“He wrote two to the king. In that one, he commends his daughter to the king’s care and tells him what he did to make sure she would not be a political liability. In another, he tells the king of their situation and battle plans. There was a similar letter for his majesty’s generals. I imagine those were the ones the messenger died to protect. This, as you said, didn’t need to be secret.”

“Barren,” Claudius breathed. “But, if the king doesn’t believe. . . .”

“In a few years, it will be all too obvious,” Rumplestiltskin said. “She will marry, and no hopeful, young lad will ever appear to step into his father’s shoes. Besides, you have the proof right there in your hand, signed and sealed by the man responsible. And I will even let you keep it. For the right price.”

“What? We had a deal!”

“A deal to make sure Lady Colette would be no threat to your kingdoms’ succession. Nothing was said about letters. In fact, as a sorcerer and a gentleman, I really shouldn’t have shown it to you in the first place. Reading other people’s correspondence? It’s not at all proper, is it?”

The arguments, protestations, and negotiations started in earnest. It shouldn’t be difficult to convince them the contents should be kept secret, just between the two men and the king. It protected _Colette_ for this to be widely known, but the two men were no already thinking of ways to turn this knowledge to their advantage. After all, the fewer who knew a secret, the more valuable it was, a truth Rumplestiltskin well knew and charged accordingly.

Besides, it keeping it secret served his interests, too. It would be best, after all, for as few people as possible to ask awkward questions when Colette had her child.

By now, she would have swallowed the red pearl and gained the magical talents that came with it. In time, she would learn to use them. Rumplestiltskin could already see some of the twists and turns her life would take because of it. It would be a good life, not that that mattered to him.

There was another letter Colette’s father had written. The seals on that were unbroken, not that that stopped him from reading it. In this one, he tried to explain to her why he gave her the potion and begging her forgiveness. He had been trying to save her life. His was already forfeit. 

Oh, the attacking army Sir Roland would intercept the night after he wrote this meant to kill the king. But, word had been spread. There were lords who would pay gold to whoever brought them Sir Roland’s head. 

Seeing the end in sight, Colette’s father decided to take advantage of it. A disciplined force under a wise commander would know they should aim for the king first. But, this was a hodgepodge collection of mercenaries and border lords whose alliance was already beginning to fracture. Waive a rich prize at them, and they wouldn’t stop till they’d taken him—and make sure none of their allies got him first. 

His choice of words was delicate—he meant this for his daughter, after all, and she was just a child when he wrote it—but Rumplestiltskin could read between the lines. It would be an ugly battle. All the men with him knew they were as good as dead, but every moment they bought for the rest of the army would be lives saved—not just the army’s lives but those of their friends and family. They would fight till to the last drop of blood.

And even that would work to their advantage. The more hacked bodies on the battlefield, the longer and harder it would be for them to know which was his. They would waste hours, even days looking for him among the dead.

It had worked. The king had had more than enough time to get to safety and prepare to meet his foes. He’d also found the body of his old friend, though not the head.

Colette might or might not have known that. Many war dead were buried in closed caskets, and Rumplestiltskin didn’t intend to ask. But, he knew her father had been right to fear for her life.

It made Rumplestiltskin feel the smallest touch of guilt for how he was upending everything her father had done, small enough he could ignore it.

Colette had been healed of her barrenness the moment she’d come up out of the lake, sputtering water. She’d choked down more than enough to heal any harm from a magic potion, no matter how good the brewer.

The pearl was what mattered, the pearl that carried just enough not only of Curupira’s magic but of Curupira herself. That was what now flowed through Colette’s blood. That was what would spark to life when Colette had her first child.

The child would be human, the daughter of the very mortal Colette and whatever equally mortal husband she found (Rumplestiltskin was already maneuvering for the squire Iara had taken the shape of—no reason the girl shouldn’t have what she wanted—but he had a list of safe alternatives if that didn’t work out). But, the child would also be something a bit more, a child of Curupira.

Well, not quite her child. The blood would be more diluted than that. A grandchild, then. Or granddaughter. Rumplestiltskin, after all, always kept his deals. He had promised Colette would never have a son. The child he had foreseen would be a girl, the girl who—somehow—would bring him one step closer to finding his son.


End file.
